


a field of wolves

by mireailles



Series: castles in the sky [3]
Category: Vinland Saga (Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:14:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28396728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mireailles/pseuds/mireailles
Summary: Post-castles in the sky. Thorfinn settles some unfinished business. Crossover with Smile of the Wolf.
Series: castles in the sky [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1992760
Kudos: 4





	a field of wolves

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of castles in the sky. I recently read another Viking story called 'Smile of the Wolf' by Tim Leach which is a fun romp if you're looking for something close to Vinland. The two characters that are featured are basically a father (Kjaran) and his adopted son (Sumardil). The father is a travelling poet.

After the battle, Canute takes both Thorfinn and Wulf up a hill that crests above the fields.  
  
They stare down at the wreckage and Canute laments on the wasted men and land. The fields have red splotches all over it, as if a blight or sickness has taken root somewhere--maybe it has Thorfinn thinks. Wulf has one hand shielding his eyes, staring down at the field. And Thorfinn too, tilts his head downward, barely registering what Canute is saying. It’s Wulf’s job to handle the administrative logistics with Canute, Thorfinn’s merely the strongarm, everyone is aware of this fact, including Thorfinn.  
  
A gentle wind, heavy with the fragrance of flowers flitters up the hill and Thorfinn inhales heavily. No stench of the dead, now littering the field below. He stares hard at a spot in the middle of the field, and an image starts to form in his mind. The field, now wide and sprawling with wild flowers, the way it was before Canute razes it. That same gentle breeze caressing his face with the same fragrance of flowers.  
  
He turns to Canute with an intense stare and Canute pauses in his ruminations with Wulf. “Canute,” he says, grabbing his arm. “I want this land, cede it to me.”  
  
Canute pulls away from Thorfinn’s grip and stares as if he’s just been struck. “We’ll talk about this later, I have other matters to attend to.”  
  
He walks away, Wulf trailing behind him but not before lingering, staring blankly at Thorfinn and his bizarre request.  
  
  
Hours later, Wulf finds him in one of the pillaged longhouses. In a corner of the room, striking one of his daggers on a whetstone, crouching next to a wall. He pushes past a couple of rowdy soldiers in order to look Thorfinn in the eye.  
  
“Canute wants to speak with you,” he says, voice stern.  
  
They walk up the path to another longhouse, this one heavily guarded. Two of the larger men beside the doors part as soon as they spot Wulf and Thorfinn, one has a twinkle in his eye as if being greeted by the great Thor himself. Thorfinn’s gotten used to it, as soon as any of the new recruits catch wind of him, they’re either put off by his small stature or in absolute awe of him. An underdog tale, a boy who rose from nothing now is one of the king’s elites.  
  
There’s no one else inside, just Canute sitting at a table with maps splayed out in front of him.  
  
Wulf takes his spot to the right of Canute, on a normal day, Thorfinn would’ve taken up the left, listening to some sob story about needing an extension or some pompous noble trying to kiss up to Canute (and Canute listening on disinterestedly). Now, Thorfinn’s on the other side of the table and Canute stares up at him, waiting for him to plead his case.  
  
Canute has a finger on a spot on the map. “You said you wanted this land, I just wanted to ensure that I am ceding it over to the right man.”  
  
“What would you have me say, Canute?”  
  
Canute leans back on his chair, intertwining his fingers together. “I know there have been some unsavoury rumours about you and your allegiance to me.”  
  
“I am your loyal thegn, Canute, that will not change if you give me the deed to this land,” Thorfinn says. “When I agreed to be under your employ, you gave your word that you would give me anything I desired and I desire this land.”  
  
He exchanges a look with Wulf before continuing. “You’re more than aware the two of you can count on me to give you anything you have need of. However, I have given you and Wulf numerous opportunities in regards to land and territory and yet, both of you have refused my offers,” Canute says and he leans over, elbows on the table. “Why now, Thorfinn? What is the exception for you, this time?”  
  
Thorfinn sighs, one hand on his dagger absently. “I will not stay young forever, Canute. When the time comes, I wish to have a place to return to--I can no longer go back to my old home, so I have decided this will be the place I will call my home when I am no longer able to fulfill my duties.”  
  
Canute gives Thorfinn an unreadable expression, it’s there for a second and then it’s gone, like a flash of lightning. “You are dismissed, I will give it some thought. For now, rest.”  
  
  
When the sun rises, he walks up to the vessel where everyone’s getting ready to leave.  
  
Canute and Wulf are already overlooking things. Canute’s looking down at a piece of paper when Thorfinn finds them. He stares blankly at Thorfinn and slaps the paper on his chest. Then moves and starts to bark at the men hauling up something big to be gentle with it.  
  
Thorfinn holds the paper up, starts to read the writing on it. It’s scrawled with Canute’s neat penmanship.  
  
“It's the deed to the land,” Wulf says from behind him.  
  
Thorfinn stares blankly at Wulf. “Did you--.”  
  
Wulf shakes his head, hands behind his back. “No, well not much. He was really touched by what you said, Thorfinn.”  
  
“Thanks Wulf.”  
  
Wulf squeezes his shoulder before trailing after Canute now in an argument with the two men.  
  
  
“That’s mostly the story,” Thorfinn says absently, staring down at the yellowing piece of paper in his hands.  
  
“And you never visited since?” Bug-eyes says.  
  
Thorfinn shakes his head. “I had hoped I wouldn’t have to unless I was gravely injured or some such thing.”  
  
He pulls himself up and stares at the waters ahead.  
  
It’s pure happenstance that he meets up with Leif and his son, just days ago. At a bazaar somewhere and when Thorfinn recounts it, it feels like a dream--like something out of a fairy tale. Both Einar and him are stocking up on supplies when someone touches his shoulder, he freezes, reaches for his daggers when Einar pulls his hand away. He’s breathing heavily and Einar’s saying, “it’s okay, mate.”  
  
He repeats it like a mantra, being under Canute’s employ makes him jumpy. Assassins, plots for power and the action’s automatic to him. But being an ordinary citizen, he’s slowly unlearning these things. Einar drops his hand. Thorfinn turns around slowly and is met with the sight of a short old man. There’s a pause when he takes his hand off of Thorfinn’s shoulder.  
  
“It’s really you, isn’t it?” he says, edges of his voice cracking.  
  
They end up huddled in a corner between two stalls. “Leif,” he says, both voice and hands shaking as he squeezes Leif’s shoulders. “How long has it been?”  
  
Leif puts a hand on top of Thorfinn’s, he smiles and his eyes start to water. “Too long, how have you been? I heard,” he says, pauses as if he’s choking. “I heard you were working under Canute?”  
  
“I-,” he says.  
  
Leif shakes his head. “I thought it some tall tale, that you’d fallen into slavery. I searched for you,” he says, desperately. “I never stopped looking, even when-.”  
  
“Dad,” Bug-eyes says, looking on with complete sympathy.  
  
“It doesn’t matter, we’re all together now, that’s the important thing.”  
  
“I agree, old friend.”  
  
  
He leans against the railings, hand shading his eyes.  
  
Mouth agape, he stares as the hills come to view and it’s even more beautiful than when he’s left it. Lush green hills dotted with wild flowers. Einar has his hands on the rails, eyes wide like he can’t quite comprehend what he’s seeing. When they disembark, a merchant points them in the right direction. The map’s old and faded and he can’t quite make out the paths anymore. The merchant points his sun-burnt finger along one of the routes and absently traces the path connecting to the plot of land Thorfinn owns.  
  
“So,” Bug-eyes says. “If you’ve never visited here since you were given the deed, have you made any money off of it?”  
  
Einar bumps his shoulder against Bug-eyes’ in protest but Thorfinn waves him off. “I have, every once in a while I received updates, along with either silver or crops, which was given to Canute.”  
  
“The tenants living here,” Leif says. “Are they aware of you?”  
  
Thorfinn shrugs. “I am not entirely sure.”  
  
“You should know these things,” Bug-eyes says.  
  
Einar opens his mouth to protest but Thorfinn cuts him off. “I understand your concern,” he says quietly. “When I initially inherited the land from Canute, he hounded me constantly. Until I ceded the decision over to him, mostly, he was looking for someone to work the land for a sum of money.”  
  
Thorfinn lifts his head up, the sunset casting pink along the horizon. He shakes his head fondly, reminiscing about the conversation.  
  
 _‘Might as well have kept the land to myself if you were simply going to transfer all of your responsibilities to me,’ Canute grumbles under his breath._  
  
“So what happened then? Did he end up hiring someone?”  
  
“Yes,” Thorfinn says, walking up the hill, papers clutched in his hand. “I believe it was a soldier looking to settle down with a family though I am unsure.”  
  
“Mm,” Einar says.  
  
“A couple of years ago, I received a letter that the man had passed and that his family had abandoned the property.” Thorfinn pauses at the crest of the hill, staring down at the property now. “The person that had sent the letter asked to live on the property as it’s new tenant. They’ve been living there ever since.”  
  
The view from atop the hill makes them all pause. The land tilled with corn growing in one field and a couple of sheep in a pen. Einar shades his eyes with his hand and gives a long, impressed whistle. Leif’s huffing and leaning against Bug-eyes for support. He takes a deep breath and stares down at the farmland.  
  
“It’s beautiful,” Leif murmurs.  
  
“It is.”  
  
They make their way down the hill to the small longhouse situated next to the fields. A young man with a long beard’s tossing axes at a tree. Thorfinn clears his throat. The man freezes, still holding on to the axe. When he turns, his hands tighten around the axe as if preparing for battle.  
  
Thorfinn flashes the deed in front of the man’s face. “I’m the landlord to this place, are you the tenant who wrote to me?”  
  
The man’s eyes widen, looking panicked, when Einar interjects. “Mate, he’s not lookin’ to do anything to ya. He just wants a word or so.”  
  
There’s a moment of silence and then he speaks, “I will take you to him.”  
  
He takes them into the longhouse, smoke billowing from the corner of the room. Thorfinn fans the smoke from his face and Leif starts to cough. He stares back at Bug-eyes and he seems to get the message. He takes his father by the shoulders and leads him outside. Someone calls out in the smoke.  
  
“Sumardil, is that you? Are you back?”  
  
The man--Sumardil calls out. “I have, I brought some company.”  
  
They settle around the hearth. Kjaran tosses another log in the fire and mumbles something about the soup being almost ready. The heat washes over them in waves. On a cold winter’s night it would’ve been comforting but now, in the middle of summer, it’s stifling. He unconsciously tugs at his collar. Einar right beside him starting to sweat.  
  
“Why have you come now?” Kjaran asks, looking down at his hands. “Are we now exiled? The king has need of us in battle?”  
  
Thorfinn shakes his head. “Nothing of the sort.”  
  
Kjaran scoffs, nods his head at Summardil. “I told this young fool to abandon me and yet, he could not cast the killing blow. Now, I am indebted to a king I wished to be rid of.”  
  
Sumardil crouches down next to Kjaran. “I apologize, I am not the wolf you saw me for.”  
  
“Seems to me the two of you have built a nice home here,” Einar says, staring up at the ceiling. “I gotta admit, I’m kinda envious.”  
  
“Indeed,” Thorfinn says, taking out the pieces of paper.  
  
He walks over to Kjaran, bending down and staring into his face. He’s old--but a little younger than Leif. Next to his chair is a walking stick and Thorfinn can see just from the way he’s sitting that he has a significant limp. Sumardil shifts over, moving back to the couch but watching the two closely.  
  
Thorfinn stares down at the papers. “I relinquish the property to the two of you--you both seem capable enough and you’ve made a life here.” Thorfinn looks up at Kjaran, who has a hand over his mouth as if thinking. He continues. “Where I am going, I will no longer be able to benefit, so I want you to take care of this property.”  
  
Sumardil walks them to the entrance, one hand are the papers--the deed to the house and the old faded map. Thorfinn keeps the letter Kjaran has written to him initially and Sumardil offers him the map and coordinates as a souvenir but Thorfinn declines. Too many strange conflicting feelings attached to the property that he wants to forget. When they reach the threshold, Sumardil stares at the parchment. There’s a low humming coming from the corner of the room next to the hearth that swells into singing.  
  
“I apologize,” Sumardil says. “He wanted me to sail to a place with no kings but I just could not muster up the courage.” Tears form at the edge of his eyes and he starts to shake. “This was a place I felt we could be free. Am I wrong?”  
  
Einar reaches out and squeezes his shoulder reassuringly, Thorfinn speaks softly, voice barely a whisper. “You are free Sumardil, Canute will take care of you.”  
  
“Truly?”  
  
Thorfinn nods. “I intend to build a place for those Canute cannot protect.”  
  
“Vinland,” Sumardil whispers, as if in awe.  
  
“Yes,” Thorfinn says, voice cracking. “Vinland.”

“It was a nice place,” Einar laments, staring at Thorfinn’s back.

“True,” Thorfinn says, absently, hands on the railing.

“You coulda created something outta it.”

“Yes, I could’ve but this is Canute’s territory,” he says, turning to face Einar. “It falls under his jurisdiction still. 


End file.
